The Darkest Night
by Roseblade22
Summary: Post Ep. 3.14 "The Firebending Masters". Unimaginable disaster befalls the Avatar and his friends on the night of the final battle against Fire Lord Ozai, and Katara and Zuko have only one chance to say goodbye...


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Just my plot.

**Author's Note:** Time for something seriously depressing…

O)))))))))))))))))))))))))o _**The Darkest Night**_ o(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((O

The sky above the parched fields of the Fire Nation was streaked with a red sunset, as if an angry hand had ripped it apart and the heavens wept endless torrents of blood. Wind whipped silently through the weaving stalks, cooling the air, as day surrendered to night.

Katara felt the power of her ancestors rising in her veins, a power she was afraid her small body couldn't contain. Still, it wasn't enough. She knelt delicately among the weeds, watering them with tears.

Toph gripped the earth with her one good hand. The other hung like a lifeless appendage, stitched onto the arm of a doll—plainly visible but useless. She could no longer feel anything; it was as if she herself had turned into a doll.

Sokka felt disbelief grip his heart, then suddenly surrender to a grim, darkened reality. Beside his sister he cast his last glance on two unmoving bodies.

Aang lay a few feet away from Katara's slumping body, dirt and dust caking along with the blood on his face. It was clear that he was already dead. However, his eyes remained open and glazed, turned towards Katara jealously, as she held the head of the dying Fire Nation Prince in her arms.

Months. Months the unlikely group of heroes had trained and tarried, preparing themselves for the final battle against the Fire Lord, imagining themselves tearing brilliantly into his palace, their combined powers giving them unusual strength. It was to be the last chapter in a grand and moving book of history, but history was altered the moment the Fire Nation discovered the secret of gunpowder. For thousands of years their cultures had used the powdery black substance to encourage various chemicals to explode colorfully in the sky, creating fireworks. Now it was the fuel they fed to the Fire Nation's new, ultimate weapon: The gun. Bullets.

The gun was undefeatable. Not even the reflexes of the Avatar were fast enough to deter the small metal projectiles they called bullets. They shattered through ice, they flew through fire, they dug into to the dirt, and they bit mercilessly into flesh.

Instead of the Fire Lord's villainous smirk, the group of outlaws was greeted instead by the cruel, smiling barrels of a dozen guns. Here on this dusty plain they had made their presence known, confident nothing could stop them, and here on the dirt their blood spilt into the thirsty earth.

Aang was the first to fall. His eyes bulged in such surprise and pain as the first wave of bullets hit him, opening horrendous wounds in his body. His blood sprayed a fine mist on the swaying grass near to him. But he didn't die instantly. He stood there in the grass, a bloody tribute to the Fire Nation's imminent victory, gasping and tearing at his wounds. The second round of gunfire was like a thunderous applause for the Avatar's final performance. A bullet caught Aang between the eyes, punching a clear hole in the blue tattooed arrow on his forehead.

Sokka and Toph were the next hit. The first bullet shattered Toph's right shoulder, rendering her arm and hand useless. She couldn't bend quickly enough without it, and her efforts only exhausted her. She collapsed into the dirt, numbed and disbelieving. Beside her, Sokka was mostly protected by his tribal armor, but a bullet somehow found its way between the armored plates that protected his midsection. The projectile was lodged somewhere inside him—he could feel it—but it wasn't enough to kill him. He fought bravely to protect his sister before the blood loss overcame him. He dropped, clutched the entry wound, and stared in horror at the blood leaving his own body, and at the carnage that surrounded him.

Katara was the one of the band that was not hit. Instead she suffered to hear the screams of her friends, to watch the blood drip from the angry, jagged wounds the bullets left in their place.

Zuko was the last. Each bullet that impacted jerked his body in a different direction, but somehow the Fire Nation Prince had managed to remain standing. The bullet holes that riddled his form were too numerous to count, the amount of blood they yielded impossible to believe. The earth had drunk it's fill of it, but his heart still shuddered. Finally he fell, and Katara held him.

Blood circled around each body as the soldiers approached them, their guns still held firmly at their shoulders, ready for another use. They paid no attention to Aang's still body, the Avatar only having been important when alive, and instead formed groups surrounding each of the survivors. Katara dared not look back towards Sokka and Toph as they were encircled by soldiers, and the twin gunshots followed by sickly silence reassured her that her choice was wise. The waterbender bit back her tears, knowing now they would bring her nothing but disgrace.

Zuko watched her face twist with pain with darkened, heavy-lidded eyes. Some of the tears from her azure eyes fell onto his cheek, but he lacked the ability to comfort her. Struggling, he used the last of his energy to do something he dared not do before.

Katara felt Zuko's arm snake weakly around her neck, pulling her closer to him. He dragged her down, raised his head as much as he could bear, and pressed his cold lips against hers. Katara tasted his blood and choked back a sob, but returned the kiss. She knew it would be her last chance. How stupid of them to have waited till the brink of death to share their feelings with each other. The kiss ended, and Zuko's last breath brushed lightly against her cheek.

The grass crushed and yielded as a Fire Nation soldier stepped close. She paid no attention, instead carefully cupping Zuko's face in her hands and granting him one last goodbye kiss. A thunderous sound exploded behind her head, and she felt it in her skull. Then nothingness.

The sun slipped beneath the thickly veiled, dark horizon. The wounds in the assaulted sky closed, giving way to a blackened void without stars.

**Personal Thingy:**

I just watched the episode "The PuppetMaster" and had a sudden unexpected urge to write something horrible and bloody. Something depressing and full of death and dispair. Something to satisfy my bloodthirst and morbid curiousity.


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